


That ache that never goes away

by darkmoore



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Gen, Memories, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmoore/pseuds/darkmoore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna was forced to leave her home in WW II, now she watches it happen again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	That ache that never goes away

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first original work. It's not a happy story. It's not my usual angst, h/c, or anything else I usually write. This story does not have a happy ending. 
> 
> It demanded to be written anyway. I think, in a way this has been a long time in the making - watching a documentary a couple days ago finally gave me the words ...
> 
> Thanks go to **Bru** for beta and unending encouragement and to **Taste** , who never stops believing in me.

_It’s happening again,_ Johanna thinks as she walks past the open door to Ceren’s room. The little girl is sitting on the bed, a framed picture in her hands. It’s Wednesday, “grandma-day” her great-grandchildren call it – the day of the week when Johanna makes her way to her granddaughter’s house to see the kids and play with them. For a couple of months now, Ceren has been one of the kids, too. She’s Laura’s foster daughter, a war-refugee. 

Somewhere along the way, on the long trek from Afghanistan to Germany, Ceren has been separated from her family. That was months ago and still there is no news about her family; where they are, or if they are still alive. The photo Ceren is holding is the only thing she has left to remember them by. 

Johanna knows what it shows: two little girls and a boy, sitting between their proud parents. Cute children with huge dark eyes and dark hair smiling happily from that picture – a snapshot of everything Ceren has lost. Her home, her family, life as she knew it. 

Johanna knows all too well what that feels like. 

Hitler made sure of it. 

It’s a knowledge Johanna wishes she could have spared the little girl that is sitting forlornly in her room, a million miles away from everything she knew and loved. Johanna knows that no matter what they do or say, no matter how hard they try, it won’t be, can’t be enough. 

There is an ache inside Johanna’s chest; it’s old and familiar, worn with age the same way the few pictures are that Johanna still owns from “home”. She’s tucked the small album away in the closet, wrapped in a cloth and protected from the wear of time as best as possible. 

It’s all she has left, too. 

Her biggest treasure is the single picture of her oldest sister, Marta. Johanna hasn’t seen her in over sixty years. Marta had been eighteen then, and Johanna twelve. 

It seems like a lifetime ago but it hurts like it was only yesterday. 

The _not knowing_. 

The _wondering if_. 

The _I wish I could … one last time_. 

It has to be a thousand times harder for Ceren, though. Johanna still had her mother and some of her siblings when they arrived in their new home. 

Ceren had no one. She was all alone. 

Johanna only hesitates for a moment before she steps into the room and sits down on the bed beside Ceren. The little girl looks up briefly but doesn’t say anything. She just goes back to staring at the picture in her hands. 

After a moment, Johanna starts to gently rub Ceren’s back. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” Johanna asks her. 

Ceren seems to think about it for a moment. “I’m okay, Grandma Hanna,” she finally says. “I just miss them.”

Her eyes glaze over and Johanna knows exactly how she feels in that moment. How bright and sharp the feeling of loss can be, how the longing for a person, a place, can take your breath away so completely. 

Not for the first time, Johanna wishes for a cure-all. For some magical potion that would take the ache away that had taken up residence behind her breastbone decades ago, deep and persistent, and on some days sharp like a double edged knife. 

For a potion that would take Ceren’s pain away. 

But there is none. 

All they can offer is patience and compassion and love; and hope it will be enough. 

Maybe, just maybe, Ceren will get lucky and get the happy ending Johanna never got. Maybe her family will be found safe and sound and ready to be reunited with their little girl. Maybe not all hope is lost yet, for Ceren. 

“Daniel and Alexandra are playing ‘Memory’ in the living room. What do you think, should we go see if we can beat them?” Johanna asks when Ceren places the frame back on her nightstand. 

Ceren smiles shyly and nods. 

“I’d like that,” she says.

Johanna smiles back and offers Ceren her hand. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

As Ceren takes her hand, Johanna hopes that, half a lifetime ago, somewhere someone offered Marta a hand, too. 

So she wouldn’t be all alone. 

Hope is all Johanna has; and after all, hope dies last.


End file.
